All that Sauce and No Meat
by Manfedzku
Summary: It's Meat Day and the most crucial ingredient for the dish Ed wants to cook is not available. Of course, it isn't. And he's been planning for so long to surprise Al with a homecoming meal too. [brotherly bonding]


**A/N: "In Japan, the 9th of February is also a day of meat [肉の日] due to it being the second month and the ninth day, ni-kyuu [二九]." So the holiday date in this Armstrong and Sig here actually exists irl. So I made a story out of it.**

**Once again, thank you Ganymeme for betaing my work! You're a lifesaver.**

**Also, I just wanted to write Ed being great in the kitchen.**

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"What do ya _mean_ there's no more meat?!"

"Means wha' I said, sci-boy," Kurt, Resembool's best butcher, grunted at him as he closed up shop. He wiped his huge hands at the front of his apron before turning to face him again. "Sold out ten minutes ago. Even had you been a bit faster you'd've gotten scraps at best. I'd restock but the closest ranch ain't responding. They be swamped."

The paper bag of fresh vegetables crinkled loudly in Ed's one-armed embrace. "But it's like fuckin' _seven_ in the morning! Our dog's butthole's still snoring and shit," he protested. "The hell's got everyone in a damn tizzy tha'—oh no…" The answer came to him like a splash of cold, soulless milk. He slapped a hand over his eyes and despaired. "…Today's Meat Day."

February 9, Meat Day, was an annual nationwide meat-appreciation holiday that also doubled as an opportunity to celebrate the efforts of humble livestock farmers. In a country with a huge demand for meat, most especially for the continuous nourishment of their soldiers at the front lines, sustaining the supply was nothing to sneeze at.

Ed knew this. Ed's high-blood pressure still spiked to dangerous levels.

"Are ya tellin' me…" he began lowly, "that I've been plannin' this for weeks and weeks and months even—every recipe tried, every ingredient tested, every little brainpower dedicated to getting the measurements just right to match the flavor in my head… only for me ta end up cookin' my _ass _on fuckin' _Meat Day_?"

" 'Ey, 'ey," Kurt interrupted coolly as he made shooing motions at him. "Go breakdown someplace else."

Ed quickly scanned the small marketplace. The Madisons' general store and the Wesleys' fruit stall were the only ones left open but, based on past experience, neither were great sites for internal collapse.

He spun back around just as Kurt reached up for something out of view, and when the butcher returned he had a whole fresh ham slung over one shoulder.

"I s'pose you're not sellin' that?" Ed tried desperately. Truth be told, he was ready to drop to his knees and plead like a convict begging for his life. Screw self-respect, he's getting that meat!

Kurt had the decency to give him a toothy apologetic smile before he let out a hearty laugh. "Tough luck, kid. I've plans to be full as a tick t'night." He patted his tum, and with a skip in his step headed for the door out back, probably already fantasizing about his date with the hog's rear leg. Then, he hesitated for a bit before calling out, "Y'know, the ol' wise elders say if ya go to the small patch o' forest nearby, ya can get a 'meat miracle.'"

And with that not-actually-cryptic advice, he vanished.

Actually, he scrambled out of the door in an attempt to make himself appear mystical more like.

Ed scrubbed the ridiculous expression his face had made at the butcher's antics. Meat miracle, his ass. More like Resembool-based superstition where if anyone went offering a chicken egg to the trees in the nearby forest, they'd get a free pig from the magical meat deities. Nevertheless, no one knew how that belief started. He vaguely remembered Granny Pinako telling him and Al about it several years ago, and his sweet little brother had believed it. So during their alchemy training days, when he and his bro celebrated Meat Day in Dublith, he had gone to share that tidbit to Izumi.

_God_, she'd guffawed so hard that Ed's pretty sure Al's been permanently traumatized.

Yeah, he wasn't naïve nor desperate enough to try out that 'meat miracle' shit. What…does Kurt think Ed was just maternally ejected yesterday?

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"_Yo, this is HAVOC's, your friendly neighborhood general store! Serving the community for eighty-two years since and counting!_"

"_No, no! Ya switched it around and got it all wrong…_" a muffled voice piped up behind the speaker on the other end of the line.

"_Jean, shhhh, not when I'm talking to a customer…Wait_, _what'd you mean I got it all wrong? It's got the same intent!_"

"…_Nah, man._ _Okay, see, our slogan starts with 'how many years of service' because we __**emphasize**__ that we've been at this general selling thing for a long, __**long**__ time now and that we are trusted—_"

An exaggerated sigh before the main speaker amended with, "_Hello, dear customer, the Havocs' business has been at it even before you were a fetus_."

Ed grinned as he finally managed to pin down the voice to a face. "Second Lieutenant Breda?"

"_Eyyyy, it's the big guy!_"

"_The big guy?!_" Havoc choked. Something crashed in the background. "_Oh no I owe him smoking money, tell him I'm not here!_"

"_Not __**that**__ 'big guy', you dummy. I'm talking about Edward! And by the way…for your reference, Ed, I've been promoted to first lieutenant two months ago._"

He whistled a high note upon hearing the news. "Congrats! And whatcha doin' there at Havoc's, Lieutenant Breda?"

"_Oh just an overnight visit for Meat Day. Lots of food, lots of beer. __**Especially**__ beer. Lots of family too._"

"Oh yeah, speaking of Meat Day," Ed got back on track, "…would you guys happen to have a really fast meat delivery service? Or maybe a contact ya can give me? Kinda ran out of pork ribs down here in Resembool market."

There was a murmur as Breda inquired Havoc. "_Ah, sorry Ed_," the man replied quietly after a few seconds. "_Jean says we could deliver to you seven hours tops no problem had there been any left 'round here. Says the market sold out before the sun was up. He and his large fam barely got just a little more than enough for our feast._"

Ed cursed. Damn. The Havocs' service was his best chance out there in the East.

A passing of hands. "_Hey, Chief_," Havoc greeted him. "_I won't hold no lie against you but ya sure got yourself a problem. So how 'bout you and your fam join us out here and we'd share party with ya?_"

The scowl on his face eased. "Aww thanks for the invite, Havoc." Sadly, he must decline. "But Al's coming home from his Xing trip an' Granny an' Win are out in Rush Valley. _Someone_ has to hold the fort."

"_Ffffff—Damn it._" Ed could almost imagine the man clutching his chest. "_An' here I was excited to have the famous Fullmetal Alchemist gettin' drunk with us._"

Ed sniggered, aware that they knew how entertaining a plastered Edward Elric was. Especially during that time involving a tower of bottles, a cannon, and a pigeon.

Unfortunately, he had to end the call soon as he still had an agenda to fulfill. Immediately after saying goodbye, he went for Plan B.

Plan B didn't last long, much to his utter dismay.

"C'mon, c'mon, connect to Teacher," he pleaded, tapping his fingers nervously on his thigh as the signal dropped again. Her and her husband's shop, Curtis Meats, was notoriously popular in the South, so he really shouldn't be surprised that none of his calls were getting through.

He slammed the phone after his twenty-fourth try. Den, the Rockbells' dog, ambled around the corner and nudged his right palm. He acquiesced and gently scratched the softest fur behind her ears, feeling some of his pent up frustration seep away.

The meat miracle advice sounded really good right about now.

He sighed and allowed gravity to drag him to the floor. Den woofed her appreciation and she clambered on top of his legs so he could pet her better.

_Go to the forest with an egg, sure_, Ed thought. He could do that, no freakin' problem. It would only take like, what, an hour to travel toward a couple of trees, then an hour back, thus adding up to a total of two hours. Just for a fuckin' fakeass _miracle_.

Well, if all else fails, he could always cook rabbit. It just wouldn't taste the same.

When he was two years old and Al an infant, their father treated their family to a restaurant dinner. The only reason Ed could even recollect this particular memory was because it was one of the very few times Hohenheim took them to travel away from the countryside. It made his child-self happy, and Ed took the sentiment with him as he grew older.

He couldn't recall the name of the place, but he was certain that it was a city restaurant. Inside the restaurant was this massive glass window separating the kitchens and the dining room proper. His mother would find him standing on one of the fancy chairs, with his nose pressed against that window and his breath clouding the surface. There were the rapid whacks of a polished knife on a cabbage, the scrapes of a wooden spoon on the sides of a sauce-filled pan, the sizzle of onions tossed into the air. A whoosh of fire from the back and the hairs on his arms would stand at that dazzling burst of light.

His mom would fetch him, saying that it was time for dinner, and he'd sit down to the sight of delicately-plated baby back ribs slathered in peppery barbecue sauce. The scent of honey wafted around him like a fresh Eastern breeze as he scarfed down his meal.

Al would never be able to remember it no matter how happy the memory was. He'd never taste the same dish that Ed ate. The dish that all four of them had dined over while Al missed the moment simply because he was just a teensy bit younger than Ed. Because he was only given the tiniest morsels to swallow as he had no idea how to even properly chew yet.

Worse still was that, when they were gallivanting all over Amestris searching for the Philosopher's Stone—and Ed was living off a State Alchemist's paycheck—Al had been trapped in a non-eating body and was unable to partake in his big brother's military-funded feasting bonanzas.

_And then_ years later, Ed had finally created and perfected a recipe, only to be met with an insurmountable obstacle.

"Here piggy, piggy, piggy!" he called out as he brandished an egg in the forest. He had been at it for at least two hours now and was about ready to give up. "Here pig—oh this is bullshit."

He gave up.

With a tired huff, he sat down between the roots of a tree. Fuck all, what kind of brother was he? He couldn't even deliver Al a proper homecoming with a feast of his own making!

"I hate Meat Day," he growled at the leaves and branches above him. The foliage didn't dignify him with an answer, so he turned his head to the side and gazed blankly at the bunch of edible mushrooms growing by the tree's base.

Without thinking too much about it, he reached to grab a stalk and then twisted. The mushroom came right off and he examined its form as it fitted into the center of his palm. He caressed the cap part with his thumb, gauging its texture.

Then, as if dragged, his eyes swiveled to the egg in his other hand.

A jolt of electricity fired up in his veins and he couldn't help but compare the sensation to whenever he clapped his hands to transmute and do alchemy. His brain kicked into overdrive as he modified his recipe.

To start with, he made a mental rundown of his resources. For instance: breadcrumbs and more eggs for binders at home, and there was some spare thyme in the back of the cupboards last time he checked. The sauce mixture part of the dish he could retain. Now, if he chopped up the mushrooms finely…

Sufficiently inspired, he jumped up and started gathering his essential ingredients.

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Onions, cloves, garlic and chili join the pseudo-meat in the skillet. When he was satisfied with the flavor, he scooped them up with a spatula and placed the food gently on a plate. The sauce—made out of olive oil, salt, pepper, limejuice, and chili powder—was poured, waterfalling all over the stack and enshrouding it with its smoky aroma.

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The instant Al's eyes went rounder than oranges after he took a bite of Ed's creation…was absolute vindication.

"_Brother_," he gasped as he wiped his lips. "This is…are you…what—!"

Ed smirked as he leaned back, feeling pleased. "Ya like it?"

"_Like_ it?" He looked stunned. "This is the best thing I've ever tasted! And it's not meat! I…and the _sauce_."

That got Ed's attention. "What about the sauce?"

Al took a bite of the meal again and chewed thoughtfully. "I dunno, but it tastes…" chew, chew, "…like our childhood home."

Ed raised an eyebrow. "Burnt?"

Al made the mistake of timing that with a sip of apple juice. "_No_." He threw Ed an exasperated look after clearing his windpipe. "It's hard to explain, okay? But it…tastes really nice."

They ate in silence for a bit, delighting in the quiet clink of steel cutlery against porcelain, basking in the warm and safe aura of each other's presence. Ed forked over a small amount of leftover beef stew (which he found at the back the fridge) to Den, who was hiding under the table.

"I guess if I were to describe it," Al continued. "I guess…I could say it has notes of Momma's touch."

Ed flicked his gaze to the dish, not saying anything in response.

"But Mom hasn't done anything like this." Al sliced a portion off of his mushroom patty. "Then again, she always loved to experiment—"

He perked up, and Ed was suddenly on high alert. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

Al turned towards the entrance. "There's an oink."

Heart pounding, Ed sprinted and opened the door. He couldn't believe it.

For there, on their doorstep, laid one fat pig.

"Oink, oink," it greeted.

"Big brother," Al said, staring at the animal lounging in front of them. "Did you happen to bring a chicken egg when you went to the forest?"

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**Leave a review if ya liked it! Even gibberish will do :)**

**Bonus:**

ed, working his cooking magic on the mushroom burger: And I shall call this...Fungus Flesh.

al: /discretely spits his food back onto the plate


End file.
